The Pirates of Discord
by PiratesofDiscord
Summary: Pirates set out to sea for a reason. Whether it be gold, glory, or adventure, every single one of them has a dream driving them on. These guys though? They're just trying not to die. [Rated for strong language, mature themes, and canon-typical violence.]


**A/N: And somehow, our chapter title is more interesting than the story title. **

* * *

Jackson D. Holic was known for one thing and one thing only: being Loguetown's local drunk. But Jackson's life was much more complicated than people realised. It involved drinking, lots of drinking, and that meant obtaining copious amounts of alcohol, and obtaining alcohol involved either making your own—which Jackson had been banned from doing—or paying for it. Paying for alcohol meant earning money, and to do that, Jackson needed a job.

To support his habits, Jackson was also known as Loguetown's handyman, the guy that did the odd jobs. He wasn't very _good_ at it due to being drunk more often than not, but he was still the man that most turned to when they needed a miscellaneous job done.

In fact, his latest job was to clean a carpet.

While that wasn't exactly a problem on its own, what _was _a problem was that the carpet was covered in lime green paint. Lime-green paint that had been left on it for far too long and had gone dry. While technically cleanable, it would involve washing it with, shockingly, _water_. The owner disagreed, saying that the carpet was a priceless antique and that there must be a better way to clean it. Jackson took a deep breath and proceeded to very clearly and calmly explain how exactly dry paint worked, and why water was the only _sane _way to wash it out. Exactly five minutes later, he found himself airborne with the street rapidly approaching his face.

It was a bit of a lie to say that this was his latest job. It was his latest _potential_ job if one stretched the truth.

He laid there for a minute longer, considering what had gotten him to this point. It _really_ wasn't his day. Pushing himself off the ground, Jackson proceeded to do the only thing he could think of in response: drink his problems away at the nearest bar. His tab was quite large at this point, but it was small enough that he could get away with a few more free drinks before he had to look for another tavern or possibly even another island at this point.

He had no idea of the mess he was about to get into.

**-o-**

**12 hours later**

Jackson opened his eyes and winced before raising a hand to cover them. The sun glared down on his face as his hangover made itself known.

"Urrrrghhh," he groaned, feeling around in an effort to discover where he was. He could hear wooden boards creaking unsteadily under his weight. He turned his head and winced, cursing as sunlight sent a jolt of pain through his sensitive eyes. Shielding his face, he could see that he had somehow gotten on top of the execution platform in the main plaza.

Below him, a voice could be heard shouting, "Jackson D. Holic, you're under arrest!"

The man in question flipped over, crawled to the edge of the wooden platform, and yelled, "What the hell are you on about?" to the man scowling up at him. Or was that a pug standing upright? His eyes were still adjusting to the sun.

Below him stood a single marine who was reading off of a sheet of paper, "For multiple accounts of drunk and disorderly behavior, and setting fire to a school. You also still have an arrest warrant for setting fire to a pet shop — thankfully, no children or pets were harmed — setting fire to a bar twice…" The marine took a breath before continuing, "Your pet shop offense also includes releasing the animals in that pet shop. It would've taken two weeks to locate them all if they hadn't raided a nearby butcher shop…" he looked off to the side as he rambled, lost in thought before shaking it off. "You've also trashed and painted graffiti the town hall, which isn't even your worst offense! Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi still hasn't forgiven you for what you did that one time!"

"...I did what?" Jackson said in confusion, before turning and seeing that the town hall had been covered with paint. A good few windows were broken, and multiple strange glyphs could be seen on the walls. "I don't remember any – hang on, what's that sound?"

The marine paused, openly confused, "What sound?"

"Over there!" he replied, pointing down a street, where two dust clouds were barreling towards them. Faint screams could be heard from each: one filled with rage, and the other filled with fear.

"Get back here with that sword!"

"What are you talking about?! Stop chasing me!"

Jackson could make out two figures: a familiar tan-skinned man with egregiously red hair wearing a black and red coat that was flapping behind him as he ran, and a woman with short, dark hair and glasses, dressed in a dark, fur-trimmed jacket. The former was very clearly fleeing from the latter, as his arms were flailing comically as he ran.

Jackson stared blankly at the two and wondered if this was actually happening. By the look on the marine's face, however, he clearly wasn't dreaming. The splitting headache and the distinct feeling of how dry his tongue felt were evidence enough that he wasn't drunk. He was, on the other hand, somewhat hungover.

"...Wait,'' The marine spoke up, furrowing his brow in further confusion and disbelief. "Is… is that Master Chief Petty Officer Tashigi?"

"And on that note, I'll be going now," Jackson remarked, standing up and cracking his neck. The alcoholic leaped away from the platform, his body undergoing a transformation on the way down. His legs turned into claws, his arms became feathered wings, and his face grew a large beak as his body grew feathers of its own under his T-shirt and pants. Said clothes sunk into his skin, his jacket in particular becoming a blue pattern along his back and tail feathers. Jackson, now a man-sized sparrow, flapped his wings, darting through the air for a good five seconds before…

_Smack!_

He slammed face-first into the wall of the building across the street from the town hall behind him, reverting back to human form on the way down. "AH— MOTHER— FUC—!" He yelled before slamming into the ground, swearing in pain.

"Jack? Is that you!?" The fleeing man yelled as he passed by, his flame-patterned coat flapping as he did.

"D…Dell? Urgh…Keep it down, please..." the man in question grumbled, wincing as Dell's voice made his headache flare up before shaking his head from a sudden onslaught of vertigo.

"Ooooooh, that is not going to wash out," Jackson muttered, squinting at the mud that had found its way onto his coat. The spot had stained the fabric of the coat, a large brown splotch against its normally sky blue. Thankfully the mud hadn't gotten on his T-shirt, it was always a pain to wash stains out of white clothes. His bandanna was nowhere to be found. Seeing the rest of him fine he attempted to rub the mud out with bandaged hands, but to no avail.

The first marine wasn't even looking at him, too fixated on the chase in front of him.

Jackson used this opportunity to make a break for it. Stumbling upright, he broke into an uncoordinated run, more akin to a quick stagger, and followed the redheaded swordsman.

"Hey, get back here!" the marine with the paper shouted after him. It was like old times, all those bar fights and property damage… All that was missing was the fire.

"Why's Tashigi chasing you!?" Jackson yelled, wincing at his own voice causing his headache to spike as he barely caught up to Dell. It couldn't be for that time he had tried to drunkenly flirt with her. That was ages ago, and the thought was still hilarious.

"Well, you see, I might have beaten up a Marine Officer..." Dell muttered softly.

Jackson nodded along before realizing that he was not drunk enough to blindly accept a story like that. "Wait, then why the fuck is Tashigi after you? Shouldn't it just be some other marines chasing you?" he questioned.

The pair made their way down the road, turning down alleyways left and right with Tashigi and the other marine hot on their tails. As they ran, Dell elaborated on his situation. "I don't even know! I won the fight, and after I started to walk away Tashigi pops out of nowhere, walks up to me, takes one look at the bokken Gramps left for me, and then tries to kill me!"

"Why were you even fighting the fucking Marines again? Didn't you learn from last time?"

"They were insulting Grandpa! Besides, it's not like I was trying to kill him or anything, just teach him a lesson!" Dell wheezed. Dell was an odd sort. He was fast, but unfortunately he didn't have a lot of stamina to keep it up, which usually got them caught. Because of this, Jackson's grandfather often berated him for not keeping up with his stamina training and had him run laps around the island.

They were headed straight towards a crowd gathered at the edge of the street. Most of the crowd was busy walking in and out of the stores nearby since weekdays were always busy around this time. Giving each other a glance and a quick nod, they decided to hide in plain sight.

While pushing themselves into said crowd, they heard a young voice in the distance. A large portion of the crowd had focused their attention to the short girl with dark hair on the side of the street. She was flourishing her hands about like a performer pulling out one trick after the next. After a moment of focus, he could see her lips moving. He didn't exactly have a bird's eyesight without transforming yet, but he could still see a few hundred meters farther than the average human. He was still working on the eye bit. Bird's Eye View would be a neat name for the trick once he got it down. They eventually got close enough to hear what she was saying.

"...For my final act, something I'm sure you've seen before,'' the girl proclaimed, a large metal ring appearing in each gloved hand. Jackson recognized her immediately—Petra. She spent most of her time in the streets performing magic tricks with the help of her so-called brother, and it seemed like today wasn't any different. He'd never talked to her, or seen her up close really, but as far as he knew she was just another attention-seeking kid. She certainly looked the part, if he had to guess he'd say she wasn't even in her teens. The fact that she wore a denim jacket, something that he only saw younger people trying to look cool wear, only added to that impression. A messenger bag sat at her feet, and as she gesticulated toward the crowd, he could see she wore a pair of surprisingly nice leather gloves on her hands. Her black, wavy hair waved about in the wind as her tan skin seemed to reflect the light.

Jackson shook his head. There was no time for that. For now, the crowd would be just be easy cover to hide in.

"...Except, you know, better," Petra continued, the surrounding audience laughing as they clapped in amusement. She raised both hands, bringing attention to the rings.

"So, what you usually see with a magician is their attempts to show you there's nothing wrong with these rings, after which they'd link them together as though it's the most impossible thing in the world. Now, I _could_ do that," she tossed one of the rings in the air, catching it in her opposing hand. When she held it up, the single ring had become a linked pair of two.

"But you want something new, am I right?!" She raised her voice, drawing more reactions from the crowd. "So how about I do something like….this!"

Once again she tossed the rings up. When they came down, they had doubled again, making a chain of four. Another toss, another duplication. Now she was holding four in each hand, the extra rings hanging by their links and clinking as they hit the ground. The audience "_ooh'd" _and "_ah'd",_ clearly impressed. Normally, Jackson would be with them, but he was much more occupied with his nausea and the marines looking for him.

"Of course,'' the girl continued, unlinking and juggling the rings, all while looking at the crowd, "That's only the tip of the iceberg. Real magic can't be described with mere parlor tricks like this. _Instead_," she caught them in both hands, "True magic is more like this!"

With the eyes of the crowd focused on her, she tossed all eight rings up into the air, all of them lining up perfectly vertical on top of one another before gravity took hold of them. She stuck up an index finger on either side of her. The rings landed perfectly, appearing to re-link themselves as she swung them into the air again using only her pointer fingers. She performed several more motions, each more impressive than the last—linking and unlinking the rings, or stacking them in the air. Either way, it seemed quite difficult to do. After a few minutes, she stopped, catching four in each hand.

"Thank you all for coming!" She called out, taking a step back and raising her hands. During her announcement, a fair-skinned boy with black hair appeared, holding a large top hat. He stood half a head taller than Petra, and looked somewhere between bored and tired. As she continued, he held the hat up for the crowd to see. "If you'd like to see me again, please send any donations you have to my brother with the hat!" With that, she threw the rings upwards into a perfect half-circle, the metal bursting into a shower of playing cards. The crowd applauded wildly as the teen began collecting donations while Petra collected the scattered cards, stacking them back into a deck.

Jackson, meanwhile, was steadily becoming more nervous as the crowd dispersed. He needed a way out, preferably before he was spotted. Luckily, a distraction appeared when Petra peered into the rapidly thinning crowd and, after staring at one of the people there, grabbed her assistant and hurried out of the area through a nearby alleyway.

"What was that about?" a confused Dell whispered to his friend.

Before the equally puzzled Jackson could respond, a cry of "There they are!" rang out. The pair looked behind them and saw a squad of marines, pushing their way past several indignant shoppers. Panicking, both Dell and Jackson began shoving their own way through the market, knocking over several bystanders in their haste to escape. They ended up running through the same alleyway that Petra and her assistant had gone not a minute ago.

As they scurried down the alleyway, the two fugitives could hear Petra being questioned by her assistant up ahead of them.

"Where're we going, what's going on?" the teenager asked, and from the way that his voice was getting louder, the two had either slowed or stopped.

As Jackson and Dell got closer, they could hear Petra talking to him in a panicked tone, "Peter, we've gotta get out of here. They've found me."

"Oh, well that's not good."

"No, no it isn't."

"So I guess we're going to the docks— wait, can you hear that?"

A few meters ahead of them, Jackson could make out the two performers peeking around a corner. Hearing the pursuing marines closing in, he made the executive decision to pull Dell into the side alley where Petra and the now-named Peter were standing. Before the performers could say anything, Jackson frantically shushed them as the marine's footsteps slowed to a stop.

"Where is he!?" a familiar voice rang out.

Jackson froze. "Oh no. Not him, anyone but him," he mumbled in fear.

"Captain Murphy, sir! I regret to inform you we've los-"

"I can see that, ye blubbering idiot! What I want to know is why ye and the rest of these pale-ass maggots aren't looking for 'im!" the man roared with a distinct brogue-like accent at the scared soldier. Said soldier fumbled for a few seconds before running off.

"Is that who I think it is?" Dell whispered, peeking his head around the corner to see the man in question. He was wearing a ragged captain's coat over a half-unbuttoned dress shirt and cargo pants, both of which were visible as he leaned against the wall of the alley. A gloved hand was rubbing the bridge of his nose under a pair of circular glasses as the man muttered out curses towards the "incompetent excuses for two legged maggots" under his command.

Dell quickly ducked back around the corner and whispered to the petrified Jackson, "Yeah, it's him."

Jackson's perfectly composed response was to slide down the wall with a hand over his face and mutter "Fuck me."

Petra, who had looked around the corner with Dell, turned back with a hesitant expression.

"Wait, is that the captain who—" Peter started.

Petra nodded at Peter, "Yes, and we need to leave. Now."

The two of them crept out the back of the side alley before taking off. Jackson and Jono hesitated a moment before also dashing down a different alley.

They made it all of five steps before they were spotted.

"And here we fucking go again." Jackson said as he face palmed.

**-o-**

Ryo let off a morose sigh as he leaned on the railing of his ship, docked at the harbor.

He was bored.

Tobi had promised to come back days ago, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man and it was driving him insane. When someone promises something, it's expected that they keep that promise, especially if they're friends with the person they promised to. If not, why even bother promising in the first place?

Ryo turned around and laid his head against the railing of the ship, closing his eyes and listening to the waves. '_At least everything is calm_,' he thought to himself, staring at the port in front of him. Suddenly, he heard a hoard of people running towards the docks. Those two out in front were probably Jackson D. Holic, resident alcoholic, and Donut something, grandson of that disgraced Admiral. There was also a sizable hoard of marines after them, headed by none other than Captain Murphy himself. It looked like Tobi had finally made his move, a stranger distraction than his usual M.O.

Ryo considered his options. This was a golden opportunity to continue towards his goals, but it would mean abandoning Tobi and his original plan. On the other hand, considering his mannerisms, Tobi would probably pop up sooner or later perfectly fine with it. Ryo was more worried about how he would even go about executing his plan of breaking away from the marines and destroying everything they held dear about their so-called "Absolute" Justice.

Ryo came to a decision. His methodology was simple: Wreck everything that _those_ people had built, because doing so would be against their so-called "_Code of Conduct_." The problem was that the system was being played by the higher-ups, the ones with the power. He understood what he was doing was going to come and bite him in the ass sooner or later, but he was tired of planning and needed some action.

To be able to do _something._

He stood up and went inside to take a nap. It would be easier to get them to agree with his plans if they couldn't escape from his ship after he revealed himself.

**-o-**

"There aren't any ships in this harbor," Jackson observed, looking at the empty docks. He paused to listen for a moment, then cursed when he heard the sounds of yelling closing in. They had just lost the marines mere minutes ago in the Logue Town alleyways - they didn't need another repeat . "And from what I can hear, we're outta time. No fucking chance of us checking any of the other harbors."

"How're we going to get out of here without a ship?" Dell panted, winded from their mad dash through the town. "We're not gonna be able to lay low around here long enough for the heat to die down," he held up a hand before Jackson could even open his mouth, "And I am _not_ going to Bartolomeo again. We just barely paid him back for the last time, and you had an actual job back then!"

Scowling at the reminder, Jackson looked around the area once more before freezing. A grin grew on his face and he slowly cackled, "I wouldn't say we don't have a ship."

Dell followed Jackson's line of sight before choking in shock. If he could say something, it would probably be something along the lines of how it was a very bad idea.

**-o-**

Not too far away, Peter was having the same worries as Dell.

"When you said 'leave', did you mean the neighborhood or the island?" he asked Petra.

"The island," She said, glancing around the area once more before realizing that the massive building in front of them was blocking her view. Upon adjusting her position, she could make out the distinctive pennant of a Marine Ship.

"There!" she raised a hand, pointing towards it.

Peter gave her a look, "Are you insane?"

"I'm not insane," Petra replied, rolling her eyes.

"We're gonna die."

"We are not!" Petra called over her shoulder as she started running.

Her companion sighed before taking off after her, wondering if he would have had to deal with all of this if they had just slept in like he'd wanted to.

"Yes, you would have!" Petra yelled at him, breaking his train of thought, "Mostly because you never sleep in, but still!"

"Don't pretend to read my mind!" Peter shouted after her.

"You make it too easy!" was her reply.

Groaning, Peter reconsidered his life decisions before jumping into a run to chase after his partner.

**-o-**

Having recovered his breath, Dell was still complaining about how the idea was terrible and that they should hide and wait for the fishing ships. Jackson, however, was quick to shoot the idea down. "If we sit on our asses here and wait for one of those boats to get back, I bet you anything Murphy'd have the entire fucking area swarming with soldiers before we could even try to leave."

They stood in the patchwork of alleyways, the place where people generally wandered into to never come out...basic scary nonsense to get more tourists. But it was generally considered a good way of losing anyone on your tail.

"Still, I'm telling you this is a bad idea!" Dell argued. Jackson didn't even turn around.

"I know you _think_ its a bad idea, but it's not," he replied.

"Really? How is it not?" Dell asked, flailing his arms about to emphasize his point..

"Dell, buddy! When have I lead you astray?... On second thought, don't answer that."

Dell looked back as if to question his sanity, but then sighed and started after him down the steep slope of the alleyways giving them a clear view of the ships at the docs and anyone in front of them. Jackson and Dell were making good headway towards the ship, darting through alleys until—

_Wham!_

"Ah!"

"Sorry, I-!"

"Fuck!"

"Oww, Whyyy?"

Groaning in pain, each person moved to stand up when an ominously low chuckle rang out. As one, the drunk, swordsman, magician, and orphan froze, before slowly looking up to see Murphy himself standing on the roof of a nearby building.

"Well, well, well… Look what we have here…" the glasses-wearing Captain, despite supposedly having been on vacation, looked no different than if he were on duty. The tall male wore a marine coat over his shoulders, dark blonde hair in a messy buzzcut as he addressed the group with a cocky sneer.

"He's talking about us, isn't he?" groaned Peter.

"No he isn't," Jackson said, inching his hand into his coat to reach for the smoke bomb he kept on hand for a quick distraction.

"An alcoholic, a wannabe swordsman, a cheap trickster, and her lackey. Hardly what ye'd think of when it comes to a group of fugitives."

"…Or maybe he is," Jackson amended before shooting the man a quizzical look. "Hold on a sec. I get me and Dell being fugitives, but what about these two?"

"Aiding the escape of two known criminals and evading the marines makes those two fugitives as well," Murphy said as he dropped down from the rooftop with catlike grace, "Plus, they were performing without a license."

"Oh come on - that last one isn't even a punishable offence!" Dell said, his eyes darting between the tall marine and the road behind him. "But you don't care, do ya Murphy?" he added before stepping back and subtly gesturing for everyone else to follow.

"Aye, right you are, now are you going to come quietly or am I gonna hafta use force?" Murphy said, his lips turning upwards to show off a very manic grin. "Oh who am I kidding, Ima gonna be using force either way!" Murphy laughed, his hands moved into his large coat and pulled out a pair of custom made bayonets.

"Well then, shall we?" he asked gleefully.

"I think it's about time we make our exit," Petra muttered, warily eyeing the marine captain. She highly doubted they could even survive in a straight fight, which meant simply getting _past_ him was more important than defeating him.

"Everyone, just keep backing up. Once we're out of the alley we'll make a break for it." Jono whispered as quietly as possible.

Step after step the group backed up under Murphy's expectant gaze as he advanced on them, until they found themselves at the mouth of the alley. They quickly turned and were about to run, but stopped mid-step when they found themselves surrounded by a squad of rifle toting marines.

"You four didn't think I'd come after ye without some sort of backup, did ya?" Murphy's voice rang out over the four as they all stared at the marines in front of them, each of them holding either a sword or rifle.

"Holy shit, a competent Marine! How unlike you," Jackson joked to himself as he stared down the guns pointed at his face.

All eyes were suddenly drawn to a few sticks of dynamite bouncing off the ground a white tag wrapped around the middle of them. Jackson smiled, "Bang." he said making finger guns at the marines in front of him.

The marines dived for cover before they could even think, just as the stick blew up into a cloud of smoke. The marines coughed in the smoke cloud, lungs clogging. Murphy, on the other hand, threw his bayonets into the cloud of smoke, not even missing a beat. Dell noticed Murphy move, drew his bokken and knocked the twin projectiles out of the air, preventing Jackson's skull from gaining two new knife-shaped holes. Everyone took advantage of the fact that none of the marines could see to run as fast as possible to the marine ship sitting in the water nearby.

Dell's eyes were wide as he looked over at his friend. "You are one lucky bastard, you know that?" he asked.

"Ha! You call it luck, I call it being me," Jackson laughed.

They arrived at the docks, looking up at the massive sail that was being unfurled. The marine ship looked as dead average as one could get. It was triple masted, had six cannons on the sides, a round central cabin, and four massive cannons sticking out the bow. The word "MARINE" was helpfully emblazoned on the sails and side paneling. Peter and Petra were already on the ship and struggling to untie the rigging.

"This is taking too long!" Petra growled. With a flick of her free hand, several playing cards flew out and cut the upper sails free. Normally, a twelve-year-old girl throwing playing cards with enough force to cut through ropes in such a manner would have been a reason for pause, but neither Jackson nor Dell could afford to stop and ask questions. Not when all four of them could hear the marines closing in.

The ship was just starting to float out of the port before Jackson decided to speed things up and threw a couple burning sticks of dynamite into the water, where they bobbed with the tops barely sitting above water. They exploded, as dynamite was made to do, the resulting waves of water propelling the ship out from the docks before the ship jerked to a stop because nobody had untied the mooring lines.

A round of facepalms ensued.

"I've got it," Petra groaned into her palm. She threw a couple more cards at the ropes, cutting them and freeing the ship as Jackson quickly lobbed several more sticks of dynamite. The resulting explosions both created a large wave to propel the ship forward and blew up what was left of the dock that the ship had been tied too to deter the Marines from firing at them. They couldn't steer the ship, but it would get them some propulsion.

Even through all of the noise they were making, all four of them could still hear Murphy screaming in pure rage as he swam after them_._ "Don't ye all think ye have escaped! I'll pursue ye all the way to the ends of the Grand Line itself if that's what it takes to bring all of ye to justice!"

As one, they shuddered in terror before increasing the pace of their efforts. Eventually, the sails caught the wind and the ship sailed off in a remarkably straight line, leaving the irate Marine captain swearing in their wake.

**-o-**

The explosions and general chaos outside his room roused Ryo from his nap. He yawned before rolling off the bed and onto the floor. Then continued to roll across the tilted wooden floor until, feeling sufficiently less lazy, he got up and dumped a nearby pail of water on himself.

And all was right in the world.

Shrugging on his coat, he opened the door and walked out.

His awareness expanded beyond his room, he could smell a meal being cooked, and commented to himself, "Oh, _he's_ here."

**-o-**

In the kitchen, vegetables were thrown in the air. Metal wires flashed through the air and they were sliced apart into small bits. Falling into a wok, the vegetables fried with a mix of salts, spices, and butter. On another counter, large chunks of meat were slapped down onto a chopping board. More wires glinted as three smooth slashes appeared simultaneously, separating the fat from the lean meat.

The fat was then dumped into an oven to crackle while the meat was flipped into the air. A series of blows impacted against its sides, tenderizing it, before it too was cut up into small chunks. A cloaked figure turned and caught the meat with the wok, placing it back on the stove to cook.

In a basin beside the figure, three carp were splashing about, trying in vain to escape. One of the carp was removed, then sliced into large sections. The other two soon shared its fate, their guts mixed with the vegetables and were filleted and placed into a frying pan to cook.

Time passed by as the figure cooked, preparing meals for when his eventual pawn– no, his crew came.

A single red eye glinted in joy as light from the flames reflected off of his blank mask, giving it an orange hue. Thinking back on his time back in town, he smiled at the memory of a drunken pirate and his role in Tobi's Plan. Flames roared as he cooked, this was going to be _fun._

**-o-**

Murphy swore under his breath as he hauled himself out of the harbor. He let himself drip as he took a second to breathe.

He grit his teeth, "So!"

He whirled around to face the assembled marines, his cloak flapping dramatically as he shouted at them. "The fugitives were surrounded. Fifteen guns trained dead on their skulls. Any _competent_ garrison would have had'em in chains before the hour was up! But instead, what happens? Ye little twits stand there," he stepped forward and the assembled Marines took a step back, "_twiddling yer thumbs_ like some wee ankle biters still growing teeth from yer gums while those pint-sized maggots steal a _Marine _ship and sail off into the sunny blues!"

The soldiers trembled as one of them spoke up. "But sir-"

Murphy threw his bayonet into the wall to his right, giving the man a left side crew cut, "_Captain_ Murphy." The soldier, paralyzed by fear, did not say anything else. The captain sighed in frustration as he stalked over to his bayonet, yanking it out of the wall and resheathing it, "Now, because of yer _utter_ incompetence, I will be forced to clean up after the mess ye've made. Yer all suspended without pay for the next week, and if I catch any of ye in uniform before I leave ye'll _wish_ ye'd been executed. Am I clear?" he received nothing but silence from the terrified men.

Murphy's next words were spoken in a calm baritone, "Let me repeat: Am. I. Clear?"

"SIR YES SIR!" The marines shouted at the top of their lungs.

As the marines scrambled around the city, no one noticed one of the former spectators of Petra's show slinking off into a side street. After glancing around and finding no observers, the man pulled a transponder snail out of his pocket and dialed a number. After the call connected, he gave the snail a vicious grin and announced, "I've found her."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Leaving a review always helps us out - tell us what you liked, and what to improve on! As a last word, we'd like to thank Cyberweasel89, TheRealEvanSG, Killamari, Mockingly Tricky, TheWhiteFox, sleep-deprived kirby, and CodeZerone for their help and contributions to the fic! **


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